


Come on with your rain

by supplyship



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supplyship/pseuds/supplyship
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For gleeathon2009 through the LJ community "carnivalofsquee".<br/>Prompt: off-world, rain, smile</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come on with your rain

She and the Colonel were halfway through the three-klick hike back to the Stargate to give their report to General Hammond (ionospheric disturbances kept their radios from working for more than 50 meters) when the skies opened up. Without warning. She had gone three or four more strides before noticing that O'Neill had stopped and was staring sort of stupidly at the offending precipitation. It was coming down so hard that within seconds her hair was plastered to her head. Lovely. The Colonel finally snapped out of his stupor and gave her a wry smile: "So. This is unexpected."

And it was. The planet's impossibly flat terrain ("So flat you can watch your dog run away for days," the Colonel had quipped) and scrubby vegetation spoke of deserts or tundras, not tropical rains. Sam didn't even have a hat with her. Neither did the Colonel; he had worn a boonie this mission, and had ditched it earlier in the day when they were helping Daniel sort through the crumbling ruins of a possible Ancient outpost. He must have forgotten to jam it back into a pocket, though it was more likely he just didn't have the room. Because Anubis and/or his troops always seemed show up wherever SG-1 did, they were traveling lean - armed to the teeth, but carrying little else. Like hats. Or rain ponchos.

She sighed and wiped the rain off her forehead. Stupid "lost city". She was *so* blaming any resulting pneumonia on Daniel.

Colonel O'Neill was patting down his vest. "I have a tourniquet and ammunition. You?"

"I'll see that bet and raise you one Gerber multi-tool, sir."

He snorted and turned back towards the Stargate, visible in the distance even through the downpour. Damn, it was _flat_ here. "Well, think of it this way, Carter. If we show up on the MALP vid looking like a couple of drowned rats, maybe the General will take pity on us and send umbrellas."

"Dry clothes," she countered, pulling her soaked pants away from her legs and feeling them slop back against her skin.

They started walking again. "Nah, they'd just get wet instantly," he replied, and then waggled his eyebrows at her: "Bathing suits."

"Ha, you wish! How about, you know, an _Ark_ instead."

He chuckled and wiped the water from his face, and a friendly silence fell between them. Well, silence that included the drumming rain and cadence of squeaking boots.

15 minutes later they were nearing the Gate when the Colonel started whistling the opening bars to "Singing In The Rain." She smiled at him as they came to a stop before the DHD. "I love that movie," she said softly.

He reached out and tucked a dripping clump of hair behind her ear. "I know," he replied in the same quiet tone. He stepped closer then, their rifles clacking lightly against each other. She couldn't help closing her eyes when she felt his fingers trail down her cheek and gently grasp her chin. When she opened them again she was staring directly into his eyes, his lashes dark and wet with raindrops. He hesitated just a moment before leaning in to brush his lips against hers. Once, twice. She sighed and pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, "I love the rain."

His hands had drifted down to her waist and he squeezed her briefly before letting go and stepping back. They grinned goofily at each other; the magic of the moment not dimmed by duty, uncertainty, logistics...

"What rain?" he asked.

...or weather.


End file.
